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Story:Kings of Strife/Part 31
Part Thirty-One Many miles to the west of Zeta Academy, the city of Empiria persists as a bustling city in the heart of the Inusian nation. It is not the most populous of cities, nor is it particularly powerful in politics or military usefulness, but it is very close to a the only large forest in Inusia and a reasonable distance away from the dead and blistering Inusian Desert that lies in the middle of the country. In Empiria, named so because it was the capital of nation hundreds of years ago, old-style architecture and conservatism are very popular. It still holds the spirit of a city prideful on its reputation and relatively peaceful way of life. It was in Empiria that Vik awoke in chains. Consciousness returned to him all at once, as did panic. He attempted to jump up and quickly assess his surroundings, but this effort was hampered by the fact that he could see nothing around him and also by the chains holding him to a rather uncomfortable bed. As soon as he realized that escape was impossible, as was a useful analysis of the place he was in, panic ran through him and threatened to send him back into unconsciousness. “Be at ease, warrior.” The voice was feminine in origin, lightly delivered and impossible to discern accurately. It came from the darkness, exactly from where Vik could not tell. Startled at the sound, he looked around him even more frantically. “Who’s there? Who are you?!” “Do not be alarmed. We have met before.” The voice, upon further listening, came from not too far away on Vik’s right side. He was very tightly held onto the bed beneath him, but his head was free. Turning his neck to the voice’s direction, he squinted into the imperceptible void and attempted to catch a glimpse of what was awaiting him. He was met with subtle, piercing red eyes staring from the darkness. For the second time in a very short amount of time, Vik had met a mysterious person with red eyes with his life in their hands. Suddenly the remembrance of what had recently occurred – his battle at Zeta; the Ouroboros warriors resisting him after failing to assassinate Vainia Sestrum; the deaths of all the students at the Academy; how his “benefactor” had helped him even though he tried to take his life days before; and the impossible way Vik witnessed the Haze Knight die. The memories, harsh and sudden, blasted through Vik’s head and ignited within him a passion of frenzy. He shook and convulsed, all of his muscles burning and threatening to rip through his skin, and he let out a high squeal as his eyes clenched tightly. A headache emerged instantaneously, as if someone was smashing his head with a hammer from the inside his skull, and his eyes felt like they were going to burst from their sockets. Just when the pain reached its climax, merely a second or two into his writhing, Vik lost all his energy and fell back on the bed. His head tilted to the side as his neck went limp. When his head landed on the bed, Vik’s eyes opened. The woman in green, the one with the same red eyes as the benefactor and savior, was standing much closer to him now, close enough that he could see her clearly even in the dark. The two of them made eye contact; Vik shook. He blinked. As he opened his eyes again, the woman jumped and raised her arm over her face. An instant later, a wreath of darkness – blacker and more of a void than the lack of light around the two of them – engulfed her arm, silently and quickly creeping over her skin and the sleeve of the jacket she wore. The woman, not wasting a moment in her haste, reached behind her with her unburnt left hand and retrieved a sword with a loud scraping of metal. The blade, thin and silver, sliced through the air in an arc and cut right through her bicep, severing the burning arm from her body in a quick flash of light. The appendage removed, she stepped to the side quickly and returned her weapon to its resting place as she disappeared into the darkness. Vik was unable to move or do anything but stare at the scene in awe. The arm fell to the ground, and just like before, the flames flickered silently and with an amazing quality to bend light itself. By contrast to the complete darkness of the fire, the unlit room was brighter than the most vibrant sunrise. It took seconds for the dark fire to consume the limb, and when it was completed, there was no trace of the arm ever existing. A shockwave passed through Vik’s body and he was overcome with sudden exhaustion. Closing his eyes with a cry of weakness, he suddenly began to pant for breath. It took a minute or two for him to compose himself; when he did so, he opened his eyes and stared straight up to the ceiling. “Your Tyrant abilities are impressive, warrior. You should be proud,” stated the woman off to the side of him. Too tired to react as he usually would, Vik simply turned his head and looked to the direction of the girl’s voice. He couldn’t see her eyes this time. “What… are you talking about?” Thinking back on the incident of the benefactor attacking him at Shorekeep, Vik remembered that pain appeared to be foreign to the man, and it wasn’t very alarming to find that this same odd characteristic was present in his gendered double. Despite the undoubtedly painful removing of an arm, the woman was still apparently going to interrogate him. Or was she going to help him like she did at Zeta? That was the most distressing part – he couldn’t predict anything from this person. “That flame you summoned. I’m glad I got to confirm that they are indeed manifestations of your Tyrant abilities; despite being separated from the Fire Crystal for such a while, you’ve already managed to summon the Vision of the Tyrant in your right eye. It’s unprecedented.” “The flame… that I summoned?” Vik’s head began to swim. He was glad that the chains holding him to the bed’s posts were tight on him and gave him acute pain, because without it he felt like he would have fainted at the duress he was feeling at the moment. “You can’t just… summon fire. I don’t know what happened, but… It wasn’t me. It couldn’t have been because of me.” “Don’t be foolish,” the woman stated curtly. Vik could hear noises and rustling; her voice moved closer. He turned to look at her out of reflex, but in doing so, she jumped back into the darkness and out of sight. “Don’t look over here,” she exclaimed. “An arm is expendable, but we cannot afford for your flames to destroy me. Not before I tell you the truth of what happened to you and the Crystal.” Vik began to shake in fear. “What are you going on about? Listen… Just let me go, please! I don’t want to hear about your damn lies!” “You would continue to deny that which your own eyes have brought into this world? Did you not see my arm burn to nothingness?” Vik had nothing to say to this. The woman continued on earnestly, but her voice stayed at the same calm staccato and betrayed her words by giving them no angry inflection. “Close your eyes. Close them!” Vik complied with her request and let his eyes close. Relaxing all of his muscles as best he could, he allowed himself to retreat within his thoughts as he felt the woman’s shockingly cold hand on his face. There was no point in resisting anything she asked of him, especially at this point when he was unable to move and she was as skilled with a blade as she was. His current location and status was unknown; the best option available for him would be, in fact, to listen to what she had to say and obtain some information. If anything, it would buy him some time to think of another idea that might have a better chance of success. “You may open your eyes now,” the woman said. Vik followed her instructions and looked at the girl standing over him. Only his left eye yielded any sensory images; the right was covered by what felt like a thin film of fabric that completely blocked his vision. It must have been an eyepatch, he reasoned, and it didn’t evade his notice that she placed it over his ‘Eye of the Tyrant’. Now that he could get a good look at the girl holding him captive, he could confirm that she had the same light blond hair that the benefactor in Shorekeep had. She was built of a thinner stature than he was, but had the same pale skin and a similar bright color palette in her clothing. She also shared the male’s piercing red eyes that looked at him with unmoving blankness. Within that unchanging gaze swirled no emotions at all. “Until you can control it, your Tyrant vision will be controlled behind that eyepatch. Remove it, and I cannot guarantee your safety, or that of anyone else around you.” “Safety? It’s…” Vik paused, momentarily consumed in thought. “You make it sound like this vision, whatever it is, is what starts the fires. Like… I have control over it.” “Think, warrior. Your body has become dependent on the Flame Crystal – does it not make sense that it would imbue flame-based abilities?” The woman made some sort of gesture with her arm and the stump of her other one, like she would be crossing her arms if both of them were still intact. Vik had nothing to say, but her words were logical despite their fantastic implications. Then again, after all he had been through, was it really possible for him to discount things as being impossible anymore? The woman continued. “You don’t have control over the flames, but you will. As long as you moderate the power you draw from the Crystal, your body will be able to adapt and grow with it – to an extent. But do not worry. We will guide you through your trials, and you will emerge strong enough to oppose the Serpents.” “This is too much,” Vik muttered. “This power… These… Serpents? Ouroboros… What does it all mean? Who are they? Who are you? And what does the Crystals have to do with any of it? Ohhh… My headache is coming back…” Vik let his eyes slide closed as he began to breathe slightly harder. He wasn’t sure if the migraine was returning because of this ‘Tyrant’ fiasco or from the stress of his situation, but it was coming back regardless. The girl sat on the side of his bed and looked right at him with clearly focused eyes. “It is time, then. There can be no further advancement without education. Listen well, then, warrior, for you are about to learn the truth of the world and those who shaped it into what it is today.” “This world was born of light and fire. For millennia, dynasties and untold numbers of conquerors roamed the world and forced others to bend their knees. There were no permanent rulings, nor any organized religions, countries, or nationalities. All the world knew was chaos; battle; war. The strong battled each other, and the weak fell to the mercy of those above them. Mythical creatures roamed the lands, born enormous and only growing larger with age; they were of a stature completely unheard of in today’s world. These creatures sat at the top of the world’s food chain, and all humans scurried about in the shadows underfoot, like roaches. It was in this fragile peace that they found a reason to constantly battle each other, frustrated with their status on the earth. The people were initially held at the behest of these gigantic creatures, until after thousands of years in the dominion of the food chain, they learned to band together and develop new technology that aided their powers and abilities. With these inventions and a newfound way of independence, the humans spent hundreds of years hunting the creatures that once subjugated them, until eventually the creatures became extinct. The humans now found themselves in the possession of technology and newly bred abilities, grown from the womb of necessity, and no enemies to use them on. The populace had grown wise in their years of independence, and realized that turning on each other would only exterminate them, just as the creatures had ceased to exist. Instead, the humans banded together and cradled together their knowledge for a new goal; collective self-interest. Revolutionary agricultural techniques were founded, followed by theoretical industries, and a bustling economy the world over. Standards of living and civilization flourished within merely a few hundred years. Incredible new machines were created, and the flow of science exploded so much that it began to exceed the realm of natural intelligence. As the years in the Age of Discovery passed from the thousands into the millions, the Eternal Peace – as it was called – only managed to produce ever more wondrous effects and items. Finally, after the long stretch of time had completely changed the human race and imbued in them the limits of their powers, the final secret of science was found; magic. Magic exploded in popularity and spread throughout the world like wildfire. With it came even more of that which the earth already held in bounds – intelligence, curiosity, inquisitiveness, and wonder. But with the introduction of a new frontier of abilities, the sudden way of manipulating the natural world with the power of the mind, came a new trait to which humanity had long since lost; greed. Greed for new knowledge, new powers, and worst of all, dominance. The thirst for power toppled the thirst for peace, and within the Eternal Paradise grew the seeds of war for the first time in millennia. The catalyst for this downward spiral was created accidentally, by a small council of extremely wise and powerful sorcerers. The circle, working and pursuing knowledge in the name of their King, brought forth seven elements from earth and consciousness. Manifesting all the power they held within their bodies, along with the cosmic energy of the world around them, they converged the power in one central location, and the effects were immediately apparent. The natural world wasn’t ready for such a conglomeration of unnatural defiance, and within seconds, the very universe around the magicians began to break down. They regained their wisdom in those last seconds and channeled all their power into dispelling the phenomenon they had created, and thanks to their united and swift actions, succeeded in saving the kingdom around them. The singularity was split into seven sections, one for each element and each sorcerer, and reacted with the natural world around it in a way yet unseen. When pure magic meets pure reality, but doesn’t have enough power to persist in its form, it stagnates and forms a crystalline form, and thus the Seven Magical Crystals were created, all those years ago. The ritual did not go without consequences, and when the dust had settled, the royal palace was in shambles, two of the sorcerers’ bodies were ripped apart and three had simply ceased to exist, unable to rein in the power of the Crystals as they stabilized. The remaining two magicians were taken into custody; sent to trial; and found guilty of their crimes against humanity and society. They were banished, forever punished to roam the world with no home until the end of their days, and were agonizingly stripped of their powers and social standings. They fled, one to the east and one to the west. Legend says they were changed men, both affected by the Crystal in a way that defied nature itself, but none could say for sure, as the magicians were never seen again. But the mad King had survived the ruin of the palace, and after the sorcerers were excommunicated, he took the Seven Crystals and found them to be invaluable tools of magical power. They increased his abilities and all those near them to levels yet unknown, even to the humans who had been wallowing in magic for millions of years. With this incredible power came incredible ambition, and the already greedy king soon became mad with power. Renaming himself as the Tyrant King, Eternal and All-Powerful, he used his newfound supremacy to ravage the world and spread his rule. The Eternal Peace had fallen; Paradise was lost; and the Crystals were the cause. The Tyrant King soon fell to his son, the Tyrant King II, and so on. The Crystals were stolen and soon spread apart, circulating through the world and only kicking up more dust of destruction. The world became ravaged by war again, its shape changing beyond recognition, and the war spanned the entire globe. For two thousand years the Crystals constantly changed hands; no land was safe from invasion and ruin; no people knew peace. It appeared as if the Eternal Paradise had given way to the Eternal Battlefield. Finally, after it looked as if the world could take no more bloodshed, the Crystals were seized by seven factions that longed for peace and used in an effort to stamp out the chaos. All peoples who advocated war and glory were mercilessly crushed. During the Eternal Battlefield, the population had already fell to a mere fraction of the levels it was during the Age of Discovery, but now it was ridiculously low. The seven saviors, as they were called, gathered together to parley at the sunset of the Crystal War, and unanimously agreed that the Crystals were simply too dangerous for human use. They locked the Crystals away, each hundreds of miles away from the other, and swore never to use the cursed, immortal artifacts ever again. As a final condition of their paramount pact, they forbade the use of magic on pain of death. The people, frightened and weary after the long war and slaughter, agreed to the conditions. Plagues swept through the land and the people, cut off from the miracle healthcare of magic and advanced technologies, were crippled by it, but survived. They held on; clung to the nations founded by the seven saviors; and let the magic in their veins die. As with anything introduced by biology and unused by an entire population, the ability to use and tolerate magic faded, and soon the world returned to a relative peace. Although history has been turbulent since then, there have been no earth-shattering conflicts since the end of the Crystal War, and with the Crystals locked away, the world will continue this way. The end of the War was almost three thousand years ago, now. As time wound onwards, both the people and the governing leaders have forgotten about the gift of magic and the horrors it has brung to the earth. As intelligence and civilization grew, slowly but surely, so too has the curious gene of humanity, once again… and some countries have been exploring the world around them. This has led to the Crystals being found, and reintroduced into the world. The Ouroboros, an organization that only came into relevance less than a hundred years ago, have always been related to anything that had to do with exploration, smuggling, and the Crystals. Only recently have I made the connection that they are behind the world government’s interest in the Crystals… and only recently have I realized the grave danger this may present. One of the most dangerous features of the Crystal is the sheer power of them. As channeling artifacts, they increase magical ability by a factor of one thousand. But to one unaccustomed to magic, the amplifying powers will be intolerable before long, and undoubtedly cause the lethal erosion of the body from too much exposure. Such a result is tragic, but inevitable. Humanity is no longer ready for magic, let alone the Crystals. That is why we must find them all, eradicate the Ouroboros who seek to use them for their own gain, and save the earth from another Crystal War breaking out. For if another does begin… humanity may not survive. Let alone the world.” The female Cidolas finally ended her speech and closed her eyes serenely. “That is the way of this world, its lost and tumultuous history, and its possible fate. Now you are enlightened, and you must make your choice; stand aside as the world ends, or take a stand with us and prevent its destruction.” Vik lay on the bed, still restrained and wearing the eyepatch. He had been listening attentively, albeit dozing off a bit in the early stages of the tale due to Cidolas’ monotone voice, but had become awake again with shock at the content of the expansive tale. Now, he looked shell-shocked and unable to comprehend that which he had heard. “Surely you must have questions,” Cidolas stated blankly as she sensed his hesitation. “Let us begin with some answers.” "A… Alright,” Vik gulped. He did indeed have questions, but they numbered in the hundreds, and it would be impossible to get all the answers he wanted here. “First of all… Just what are you? What the hell kind of system do you have going on that keeps you alive even after all the injuries you take? How do you know all this stuff? How can I trust you that all that wasn’t just some crazy bullshit?” The tale was too in-depth and elaborate to be fake, he knew. It wasn’t suspicion or mistrust that swirled his heart, but rather the stubborn need not to believe. He didn’t want to think this was bigger than he could handle, and some huge un-heard of history was definitely larger than he could ever be. “We know of the true world because… We have seen it ourselves, in one way or another over time,” cryptically stated Cidolas. She ducked her head slightly, not meeting Vik’s widened eyes, as if she knew how absurd this was. “More on this and earlier topics will be revealed to you… in time. Continue,” she demanded. The roughly bearded soldier gulped, but moved on reluctantly. “This year is 2976 of the Common Era. That’s all I was taught in school… That’s all anyone ever learns in school. That’s all anyone knows. Before Common Era is the time before humans became civilized, and all history from that era was oral, so we don’t know much about it, if anything at all. But you said that the Crystal War ended almost 3000 years ago… Am I supposed to believe there were humans on the earth for millions of years before that?” “Yes,” she answered. “That is exactly correct. The loss of known history from before the Crystal War is exactly what the seven saviors wanted. The old world has been completely forgotten.” “That’s… There’s no way that’s true,” Vik breathed. “I can’t believe there is so much left unknown about humans. What were they like? What did they do? How could such a thing be allowed to happen? Could the Crystal War have been that horrifying that the world was willing to allow so many centuries to be lost forever?” “Yes.” She looked to him meaningfully. “And that is why we cannot allow the Crystal Wars to occur again. Have you completed your inquisitions and decided on your fate yet?” Vik shook his head slightly. “I still can’t fathom all that history yet, but I guess the only important part is that the Crystals are back, and this is bad news. And because I’ve been around the Crystal, it’s starting to bring out magic in me? And after a while… This magic will kill me?” “Yes,” repeated Cidolas. “Named for the Tyrant King and his mad descendants, the Crystals bestow special Tyrant Abilities in addition to regular magic orientation. In every human they gift the Eyes of the Tyrant; although named after the Eternal and All-Powerful, in truth these ocular abilities were common to every magician in the Era of Discovery. But to humans nowadays, these abilities will rack the body with new genetic material, speeding up evolutionary growth beyond accustomed limits and destroy you from the inside out. The Eyes in particular will rob you of your sight and your sanity. This much is guaranteed over time.” “Then this eyepatch… Will it save me from losing my eyesight?!” “No. But it will prevent you from summoning the Black Flames and destroying anything you look at,” she said with a deadpan expression. “And until you learn to control your Tyrant Eye, it will prove indispensable. You cannot control it yet, nor can you manifest it in both eyes. This much is expected.” “The Black Flames, huh? So that’s what that was… Does that mean that I killed…?” Vik choked up, suddenly unable to finish his statement. The memories of the Haze Knight writhing, screaming, and choking on his boiling blood filled the man with revulsion as bile threatened to move up his esophagus. “By extension, yes. The Haze Knight held onto the Crystal of Fire, foolish assuming that your body had grown back to its vanilla state and was unable to manifest magic or the Tyrant’s Eyes after an extended period away from the Crystal to which it was attached. But he was wrong, as you saw. You probably didn’t notice, but as you passed out, the Flame Crystal was held tightly in your arms, and we only managed to pry them from your grasp after you were securely held down. Your body’s addiction to its properties are already quite formidable.” Vik lay in silent meditation at this revelation. He had known, ever since the battle with Silverius in the beaches of Straits, months ago now, that the Crystal was dangerous and addictive. But this was a new level of danger… One that he didn’t necessarily want to be involved in. His body jolted at this thought. Memories flooded and flashed through his vision. “Silverius!! He’s had his Crystal since before we even met… For me to have these effects after being away from my Crystal for weeks, then he’s…?” “Yes,” the blond woman confirmed. “He is in mortal danger. As we speak, his body grows ever closer to the Crystal’s evil, and his power grows. Life still flows through him, and likely will for some time yet, but his sanity is another matter. And for one with already such a fragile psyche, scarred by trauma and service, we do not have much hope. The Crystals will take him.” “Not if I can help it,” Vik exclaimed. His body swelled with sudden energy and he yelled with a roar of righteous fury, startling Cidolas from her seated perch on the bed. As his muscles bulged and his voice reverberated, Vik drew his limbs up and forward with previously unheard of strength. With a crack and then a snap, his body flew into the air, smashing from the hold of the chains and ripping them from the bedposts. The soldier now stood in the middle of the dark floor, shackles on his wrists and ankles with shattered chains hanging from all four of them. Even the chain around his neck lay cracked and broken. As a reward for his efforts, blood dripped freely down his feet and hands. He stood hunched over, panting and struggling to reacquire his breath. As he stood there, unaware of his herculean feat and unreasonable strength, he remembered his life at him; the military service thrust upon him; his cowardice and subsequent self-exile; the various failures and crimes that followed him since then; and his companionship with the elusive Silverius. It was only then that he realized the conclusion he had gotten as he roamed the Inusian Desert, half-dead and dehydrated, was completely wrong. It wasn’t in his destiny to be alone, self-sufficient, and cowardly; life would only come to this if he let it. True companionship and secure relationships, factors that would lead to him becoming brave, satisfactory, and strong, began with one person, and Silverius was this one. Silverius was going through a turbulent period, and it was up to Vik to save him; there were no others in the world who loved and cared for the man. This much he knew, for Silverius had the look of a man completely alone in the world. Vikcent knew this look; he saw it in the mirror so often after his squad had been eradicated by Ouroboros. Yes, Vik thought to himself conclusively, this is my chance. I cannot let it slip away. After this moment of recollection, he looked to the side and found Cidolas, pointing her sword at him with her free hand and unwavering determination shining in her red eyes. “I’ll do it,” Vik stated. “I’ll follow you, and I’ll get these Crystals back. We’ll save Silverius, and prevent a second Crystal War. I swear it.” He made a fist, splattering the blood in his palms onto his tattered clothes, and gave a tight, determined grin. Cidolas lowered her weapon after a second and continued to stare at him with her blank, unfeeling expression. “Very good. You get to survive,” she stated, “if you follow us and adhere to our training. Before we pursue Silverius and the other Crystal holders, you must be trained and adjusted to the ways of magic, or they will destroy you.” “That’s fine with me.” Vik muttered decisively. “I will excel, and I will adapt. Silverius needs me.” ***** The door slammed, followed by rapid footsteps punctuated by hard sole dress shoes. Razmid ran through the dark halls of Shorekeep Castle, adjusting his tie as he did so. As he passed the few windows in his trek down the stairs of the Revolutionary Council’s residency tower, he grimaced. The sun was already high in the sky and the sky bright with the light of the day. As a Baron, he was expected to be awake every morning at or before sunset. But this day, much like most other days, he had overslept and was running late. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but today was a court day. Lady Vainia expected every Baron to be present and punctual for court days, so that they obtained just as much an understanding of everyday politics and the feelings of the public as she did. This was all well and good, save for the fact that, in Razmid’s opinion, Vainia slept quite peckishly. He had never even seen her take a nap in person. Finally he barreled into the first floor of the castle with a jump down the last three steps of his tower’s spiral staircase. He began down a corridor, slower than before so his footsteps would not be as audible, and checked his clothes for any unpresentable objections. He was wearing his Zeta Academy uniform, as he had for the past few days, as had the rest of the Barons. There was not much else for them to wear, although a citizen of Shorekeep that Vainia had drafted as a tailor promised new uniforms for them any day now. Razmid didn’t care much; he quite liked the formality of the Zeta uniform, and it kept him thinking of home as well as gave him an air of nobility that went quite well with his title. Razmid Arensten wasn’t particularly homesick, considering Zeta was a boarding school and he was away from his admittedly distant family in the first place, but he did miss some of the perks of living in Inusia. His Datalog got much better signal in its home country, for example, and food was slightly saltier in the large nation. Also, in Inusia, he never had to worry about balancing domestic accounts, regulating potential naval monopolies and weapon manufacturer prices, nevermind an invasion by government alliances. The dark-skinned boy arrived in the gigantic forum that was the first floor’s courtroom. Although it was merely a shadow of Vainia’s throne room in the middle floor of the castle, the court room still had an exceedingly tall ceiling and was wide enough to fit an entire audience of people. Its walls were elegantly curved near the tops, and tall windows graced the walls in just the right interval to allow sunlight to brighten the room without causing excessive glare or heat. In the very back of the courtroom, on a small slope, sat a much more conservative version of Vainia’s throne, upon which she sat when listening to cases and presiding over meetings. After the Shorekeep Castle was hastily built within less than a few weeks by those recruited in Taoris’ reconstruction of the Fifth Brine terrorist/rebellion organization, it was steadily expanded upon by volunteer workers since Vainia’s occupation. These workers sought to not only enhance the aesthetic and practical functions of the castle, but also to add in regal touches that were not priorities in the castle’s origins, but more than fit its royal inhabitant. The first such room to receive an addendum was the court room. The expansionist efforts added conservative columns and liberal attempts at fine art near the top of the ceiling of the room; imperceptible and trivial to most, but pleasing and refreshing to those who would appreciate such things. Surprisingly, Baron Martessa and Baron Tasshon were the ones who spearheaded the efforts to decorate the court room so, shortly after they arrived in Shorekeep. Razmid was surprised to see that Martessa held such creative talents, but he had known Tasshon to be artistic for years. The two had been close friends – associates, really – for longer than Razmid could remember. That was before the two of them went to Zeta Academy, at which point things went sour, for lack of a better word. Razmid, appearing in one of the side doors of the court, startled the two people standing near the opening. “Sorry,” he muttered, breathlessly, before jostling through them and making his way towards the back of the forum. Behind Vainia’s chair, in the very back of the raised platform in the court, were five similarly decorated seats. He hoped against hope that the matriarch hadn’t noticed his absence – although none of the Barons had yet to defy her or do anything to deserve punishment, he didn’t want to start any trends or see just how terrible her wrath could be. Only by moving in the shadows and behind people did Razmid manage to climb onto the platform and crawl behind Vainia’s seat. She was intently focused on the person standing in front of and below her, and was in her recurring pose of legs crossed and hands laid in her lap. Once he was safely out of her sight, he stood up and quickly sat in his seat, disheveled clothes and all. Despite the various people looking on at him in confusion and humor alike, he let out a sigh of relief. If anything, he wouldn’t be embarrassed too badly in front of the Shorekeep crowd. Baron Kamanus, whose seat was to the left of Razmid’s, scoffed quietly to his fellow Council member. “You’re late,” he spat. “And you’ve got lipstick on your shirt collar, you messy twat.” Razmid looked at the mark in question and started to rub it out with a licked finger. Despite the situation, he smirked a bit. “A little jealous, are we?” “Don’t curse me with such an assumption,” Kamanus whispered angrily. “I know how to take responsibility and control of my vices, unlike you. Clearly.” Razmid only chuckled to himself and looked forward with as straight a face as he could manage. Kamanus was right, of course, and his biting words had long ceased to give Razmid any emotional harm. In the meantime, he figured it would behoove his tardiness by actually paying attention to court, as difficult as that would be. For the first time, he took a good look at the man standing in front of Lady Vainia. Instantly he realized a subtle resemblance between the two; although Vainia wore her Zeta Academy uniform with its stains and cuts, she accentuated it with a flowing red cloak, a utilitarian golden crown, and always focused body language. The man in front of her wore robes that reminded one of a librarian in their breadth yet conservative qualities. His robes were a stark navy blue, and were perfectly pristine save for some wrinkles here and there, but thanks to his sunken-in eyes and oddly long nails, the man gave off a disheveled, unrested look. But both the ruler and her subject had eyes that looked about slowly, confidently, and with complete comprehension. They held themselves with intelligence and mental power, and this much was clearly visible to any onlookers. If his demeanor wasn’t enough, the court subject spoke with as much mastery in vocabulary and word choice as Vainia did, if not a little bit less. Their conversation, not delivered particularly loud or quietly, was magnified thanks to the acoustics of the court room. “As a member of the Lex Libris, surely you cannot expect me to support this legislature of yours, Your Highness,” stated the studious-looking man. The coat he wore over his meticulous robes had a fur collar, suggesting that he was used to a colder climate than the one found in breezy Shorekeep. The hard features of his face and the somewhat shaggy sunset red hair he sported supported this fact somewhat. “It would deviate almost all of our funding. I have been told that you are quite studious yourself; thus it seems unlikely to me, and indeed the entirety of the Lex Libris future affairs committee, that you would stamp out one of the nations’ most treasured organizations devoted to historical and theoretical scribing.” “You have me mistaken, High Lord Scholar,” Vainia stated. She looked onto the librarian with interested eyes. “It is not that I intend to stamp out your society, useful and informative though it is. Quite the contrary, for I seek to allow it to thrive.” Irritation flashed on the man’s face a brief moment before he closed his eyes and took a breath. This action cleared his demeanor and returned peace to his visage. Although it was quick, Vainia and the rest of the Barons noticed. The matriarch, in particular, sat back in her throne and some of her stimulation seemed to vanish. “How, exactly, do you hope to give us room to grow when you syphon away all our budget for primitive, militaristic functions?” “A long process. One that I’d hoped at least one in your group would recognize. I see I have been let down,” she stated. The librarian looked up at her, his irritation barely hidden now. “First of all, how can you expect your society to thrive without proper national defense? If a foreign country invaded and laid waste to the city, it wouldn’t be out of line to imagine them using fire as a destruction method or tactic. And it isn’t rare for libraries to burn. Tragic… but not uncommon.” “An elementary way of thinking, I must say,” the librarian scoffed. “Without your reactionary efforts, there would be no reason for any aggression in Shorica. It was your faction that brought the hatred of other nations with it.” “Oh, so you propose the return to Shorica’s previous ‘democratic’ regime? Let’s ignore the treason in your words, High Lord Scholar Ninvena, because I know we are all intelligent people, and you wouldn’t bring such an offense on yourself,” Vainia smoothly answered. The librarian visibly shifted. “First, is it not true that although your budget has been downsized by my new budget legislation, it is in a general increase over what it was this time last year?” The High Lord Scholar twitched. “You’ve… You’ve read over Shorica’s recent fiscal history, I see…” Vainia chuckled humorlessly. “Extensively. Moving on – if I remember correctly, you are the last of the High Lord Scholars to be elected. The ones after you were appointed by the Shorican bureaucracy because of their relative decline in usefulness, not because of their passion for literacy or historical exploration. Surely you don’t support such a system, in which you would most likely be replaced before being able to retire?” The middle-aged scholar said nothing. “Of course not. And surely – surely – you aren’t implying that my hold on this country will be anything but beneficial? I, who have liberated the nation of Shorica from the gradual dictatorship that it once was? My rule, which has replaced that known for ruthless economic control and the overuse of federal oversight? My budgets, which leave more for regional economies and naval market competition than in the past 80 years of Shorican economics?” She laughed wholeheartedly and laid her slim hands on the arm-rests of her throne. “Right. I didn’t think so.” The High Lord Scholar cleared his throat, turned, and left the court room. None of the other onlookers or spectators, relatively numerous but nowhere near enough to fill the atrium, dared to move. The princess looked to her side in a window directly adjacent to her throne. “Oh, look at the time. It’s almost noon.” She stood and drew her cloak around her. “Court adjourned. Return in two days for the next session if need be.” The court burst into a gentle murmur as its members left through the central entrance, back to the Shorekeep streets of cobble and rebirth. Vainia let out a breath and stood from her seat. As was customary, the Barons only stood after she had. Hearing their movements, the princess turned and looked at each of them in turn, except for Razmid. The man inwardly cringed at what this gesture obviously meant, and hoped none of the others had noticed it. “We have a council to hold,” Vainia spoke simply. “Come.” She turned to the side and exited through a side door, her expression curt but not at the stage of agitation just yet. The Barons followed her silently, each one hesitant to draw her temper out to the extent that was shown in the court. The group traveled through the elaborate castle until they arrived at the Council Forum, near the top floor of the dwelling. It was spaciously built and furnished with lush colored cushions, curtains, and expansive windows. Vainia sat near one such window, cross-legged on a drab silver-colored plush, and folded her arms. The rest of the Barons sat near her in a circle and silently looked at the princess as she meditated. Razmid, after a few moments, hesitantly decided to break the silence. “I’m, uh… I’m sorry for being late to court, Lady Vainia. It won’t happen again.” Martessa looked towards her fellow Baron with disdain. By now the girl had given up on wearing her Zeta uniform and had donned a Shorican outfit of a wide dress to her ankles and a sash that sashayed into a cape behind her. It was as clear a symbol of her leaving behind her Inusian heritage as ever; the Shoricans loved open, nonrestrictive clothes that moved in the coastal wind, while Inusian fashion preferred tight, functional dress. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been tardy, Arensten,” she spat. “And we all know it won’t be the last.” Tasshon yawned. “It really isn’t that difficult to show up on time,” he muttered. The Baron of War barely slept in between his grueling physical training and the various tasks Vainia assigned him. Even with Taoris currently absent on business, also assigned by Vainia, Baron Tasshon exercised in private. Only his naps taken during court kept him from exhaustion. “Hm?” Vainia looked up from her thoughts, gazing blankly at Tasshon and then Razmid. “I hadn’t even noticed your absence. As long as it doesn’t happen again, I bear you no ill will,” she confessed. Razmid sheepishly smiled, unsure if he should be relieved at his safety or insulted that his presence was so irrelevant to Vainia’s consciousness. “What is it that you needed, then,” prodded Kamanus. He had his arms crossed against his chest and was looking out the nearest window. “Didn’t we just have a routine meeting two days ago?” Baron of Intelligence Kamanus Casvaal was an odd case among the Council. Unlike any of the other Barons, his job did not involve sitting at a desk for hours at a time, poring over papers, plans, maps, and problems. He did not have to balance and calculate budgets, study the history and political stances of various nations, or come up with new treaties and ordinances to help control a besieged city. The most any of the others ever saw him doing that vaguely appeared to be work was speaking. He was always talking to somebody, whether it be a drably dressed spy that left with haste after their conversation ended, a person on the phone to whom he was always conversing, or even to himself. Kamanus frequently spoke to himself, and wrote notes on scraps of paper and even himself even more often. Vainia finally answered with a twirl of her hair. “I’ve been having a dilemma. There is something I wish to ask you all. Hopefully it will make my decision easier, even if just a smidgen.” “It’s… not about that guy in court, is it,” Razmid asked. He had been paying attention near the end, but considering the fact that he had missed more of the three hours of session prior to his arrival, this question might alienate him. “No,” Vainia stated. “As if I would waste any more of my time with the worthless fools who bother to enter my court.” Shorekeep had been good to her, relatively, since it fell to her faction. Still, despite the general welcoming of her reign by the restless people, and the fact that no large resistance had been made against her yet, the cobblestone city had its fair share of dissenters, particularly those who liked to make their opinions known through passive aggressiveness. If another committee member came to her court again complaining of something she had ordered, Vainia thought, the city would burn. “No,” Vainia repeated, “I have brought you here because I am at a crossroads. The city has begun to rebuild exponentially not, and it won’t be long until it has returned to its full glory and the shores become ours to rule. But at the same time, we know the World Government is onto us and a full movement of aggression is only a question of when, not if. I wonder…” The princess bit her lip slightly with a rare expression of vexed hesitation. “Shall I stay in Shorekeep, and fortify the city until it is impenetrable? Or advance through Shorica, bringing in my allies for a strike at Inusia’s heart?” The Council sat in silence for a moment, all of them looking away from Vainia in thought. This truly was a conundrum, they thought to themselves. Tasshon broke the silence first, but contributed little to the issue. “I cannot say yet what your next move should be, but I can add that it was a mistake to burn Shorekeep’s navy while you made your siege. Surely there could have been a better way to sack the place without crippling yourself in the long run.” “Perhaps there was, but at the time I had little other options and even less power to back them up. The added naval power would have been useful, to be sure, but not in this situation. The only coastline Inusia has that is close enough to Shorica to make a navy force useful is tall and covered in cliffs that hold off assault.” Vainia spoke of the titular Icarun Cliffs, an inlet in the far east of the Queen’s Gulf. The Gulf took up all of Shorica’s southern coastline and much of Mortis’ northern openings, but to Inusia there was only a few miles of coast met by unforgiving cliffs and cold, grey rain. The nation’s Icarun Fortress sat on the highest of these cliffs, and was scarcely populated nowadays; but in the past, it gave no quarter to the few naval raiders that survived the perilous area’s terrain. “Shorekeep is filled with ambitious young sailors who love you and your rule,” stated Martessa. As the Baron of Governance, most of her daily duties involved going over Vainia’s potential bureaucratic movements and advising on them, as well as making sure they get put into law. She also had a small margin of power over the area’s militia, which was split almost evenly between former Fifth Brine members and new Shorican recruits. “They miss the sea, to be sure, but they have found renewed passion in following you. The longer you stay in the city, the more you stoke the fires of their morals. They will soon be a force to be reckoned with the world over.” “Yes,” Vainia mentioned, “but will they stand up against Inusia’s elite military or Nneoh’s fierce soldiers?” She did not wait for a response. “They are all either sailors or civilians, as you have said. To use them against Inusians without overwhelming numbers would be asking for eradication.” “So why worry about invading?” Jütenas asked as they finally moved their gaze from the window to Vainia’s perch. Out of all the members besides Razmid, Jütenas was perhaps the only one who was on time for everything Vainia assigned, whether it be a council meeting, a court date, or an assignment/inquiry she needed answered. Despite their cold and logic-testing exterior, the Baron of Foreign Affairs was perhaps the most passionate and work-oriented Baron. Usually found in the library beneath Vainia’s floor, meager though it was, Jütenas quickly became one of the more knowledgeable Barons. “She speaks of the militia, but not of Taoris or I,” Tasshon spoke. Razmid looked at him with due surprise; it was unlike the tall boy to show confidence in himself. The Baron of War spoke of his own abilities like they were simply something to be observed, rather than something he was proud of. His body showed the progress he had made, for his Zeta uniform jacket no longer fit him, and his white turtleneck undershirt was tight enough to show his muscles clearly. “Nor does she refer to herself,” he added. Kamanus scoffed. “Are you trying to tell me it’s between you, the Knight, and Lady Vainia herself to defeat all of Inusia? When an entire army couldn’t do it?” He laughed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The boy’s mouth curled into a tight grimace; he craved a cigar, but Vainia had long since banned him from smoking in her presence. The smell irritated her. “And I have yet to see Lady Vainia do much besides laze about her throne and read in her library. Forgive me for my bluntness if it bothers you, but I speak only the truth,” he stated after receiving a withering glare from Martessa and a slight gasp from Jütenas. “Yes,” the princess stated plainly, as if she didn’t even notice Kamanus’ disbelief. “I’m sure we could find some way to wound the nation, but it would likely result in thousands of casualties and drawbacks that I wouldn’t be able to comfortably recover from quickly. I’d rather leave the use of my trump cards for when I’m backed into a corner.” The Council looked at her in awe, Vainia noticed when she looked up. It was only then that she realized that they didn’t know of her runic abilities, nor had they ever heard of them. She had been practicing and reading up on more powerful spells whenever she could, although the opportunity for new knowledge was few and far apart. She grappled with the idea of opening up and revealing her otherworldly power to the members for a brief moment, but ultimately decided against it. “And these trump cards… Are you keeping them secret from us, as well?” Jütenas seemed to understand the hesitancy Vainia held, but was unable to mask the disappointment on their face. “Yes… for now. Forgive me, my Barons.” Kamanus stood. “So you can’t even trust us with your secrets. If you don’t trust us, who do you trust, dammit?” Vainia said nothing, but looked at the boy with forlorn longing. She wanted to convince him to believe and stand by her, but at the same time she was beginning to tire of his abrasive attitude. The boy let out a huff and paced around his cushion for a moment. “Is nobody else pissed off by this? Nobody else just a little ticked off?” He clenched and unclenched his fists. The other Barons looked at him, some sympathetically, but none responded to his prodding. With a growl, he stepped away from the area and towards the door of the forum. The room sat in silence. Just before he moved to grab the doorknob, a knock rang on the door. He paused and looked behind him, his cardinal-red hair highlighting the fury burned into his face, even as he looked to Vainia in confusion. She looked back with a similar expression, showing that she was not expecting any company, and he turned to open the chamber’s door. In walked a girl in a dark gray body suit decorated with various short red sashes and ties on the arms and legs. She wore a black scarf that pulled up to mask her mouth, and her hair was tied back in a ponytail much like Kamanus’ own. All of the members in attendance recognized her attire as a sign that she was one of Kamanus’ various informers, to whom he was always conversing or hearing things from throughout the castle. Nobody knew how many of them there were throughout the place, nor where or what it was they did to gather their information, but as this pertained to his area of expertise and allowed the Baron to provide results, Vainia allowed it to happen on the condition that none of them ever performed surveillance on her. If she met one defying her privacy, she had told Kamanus, she would kill them. The girl looked first to Kamanus and gave the Baron a piece of paper folded in on itself. Then she looked past him to the others in the room; when she saw that the entire Revolutionary Council was sitting and staring at her, let alone her queen above them all, she visibly cowered and stepped back. Kamanus grabbed the paper in his hand and slapped the girl on the shoulder. “You’ve given me your message,” he grumbled, “now get back to work.” She nodded, eyes still focused on the Council, and left as silently as she came. The Baron of Intelligence turned on his heel, still smoldering from his previous outrage but now brought back in check as he unfolded the paper and started to peruse it. “How come you didn’t talk to her like you do all the others,” Razmid asked. “What’s her name?” He had been staring at the attractive young girl for reasons other than curiosity. “She was one I had to recruit by force,” Kamanus stated absently, “and thus she had to be crippled in order to show that she could never defy me. For that one, her throat was cut. She does not speak.” Razmid had nothing to say to this. “Would you mind telling your little informants to stack these messages until I dismiss you all, in the future, Baron Kamanus?” Vainia was noticeably annoyed by the interruption, even though she was planning on letting Kamanus leave the room in his rage. There would have been no use for a Baron that could not see reason through the veil of anger, but now she wouldn’t be able to punish him for leaving like she had wanted to. “…I will, but this… I believe this particular news is something that needs to be served in counsel,” he breathed. Kamanus looked up to Vainia and all the red anger present in his face faded. If anything, he looked almost afraid. Vainia fell silent. “Zeta,” Kamanus stated simply, “has fallen.” The room sat in stunned silence for a moment, then another, and onwards into a full minute. Then Vainia, awash with sudden movement, stood from her cushion energetically. “I have made my decision,” she stated as she moved quickly towards the exit of the room. The other Barons looked at each other before standing up unceremoniously and following after their queen. Even Kamanus followed, albeit near the end of the bubble that surrounded Vainia in her trip. “What do you mean?” probed Martessa. Her voice audibly cracked, and she sniffed after her question was delivered. “Have you chosen your next move, my Lady?” Out of all the Barons, she was the one most visibly shaken up by the sack of the Inusian institution, which made sense. She was the daughter of the powerful di Sabine nobles, proud pillars of the Inusian military economy, after all. “Surely it isn’t to put your neck into the public eye any further,” asked Tasshon. “The War Baron speaks reasonably,” chimed Kamanus. “The report stated that the attack took place not even hours after we departed. It’s clear that whoever destroyed the place wanted to get at you… My Lady.” Baron Casvaal showed the least amount of emotion of all the Barons besides Jütenas, of course. “I do not particularly care for your reason at the moment,” Vainia spat as she started down the large spiral staircase of the floor, her Barons frantically rushing to match her agitated pace. “It is clear to me now that the World Government aims to control my ambitions and take my life, whilst acting under the guise of shadows they hold so dear. This ends now. I will announce my presence and the identity of my foes to all the world, and then we will see what the Government does to topple cities! The nerve of them… To murder thousands of students in an academy of their own allegiance, just to attack me! And then, to fail!” “Wait… What?” Jütenas reeled and almost tripped down a step. “You’re going to announce your presence to the entire world? That would make things easier for them! How… How would you even do that, My Lady?” “With your help, I hope,” Vainia answered. “Tasshon, Kamanus, and Jütenas will travel with me. Baron el Divrus, has my Knight Veit returned yet?” “No, My Lady, Knight Constantus Veit has not returned… not yet. And he went in the airship,” Tasshon answered with full understanding of her true question. There was only one functioning airship in Shorekeep available to Vainia’s dominion, and Taoris had taken it on his business. Vainia sucked her teeth. “Very well then. We will traverse by train, just as we did before.” She paused in thought for a brief second before exploding back into her thoughts, almost tripping over her words in her excitement. “To Empiria. The central Inusian city and the home of its satellite communications, both to its military bases and the civilian population worldwide. We will infiltrate, broadcast my message, and escape before the military can retaliate. The perfect message… and the perfect defiance.” “The roads through the border will likely be secured, especially after the attack. And if they aren’t, they definitely will be on the way out,” stated Tasshon. “Then we will simply break through their security,” the queen retorted. Her fearlessness was palpable. “Even on the return trip, if need be.” “To break into the nation that wants you dead… announce your presence… and then to break out. That’s ballsy… It’s badass! Lady Vainia, I didn’t know you had it in you,” chuckled Razmid. He received an elbow from Jütenas and a glare from Martessa for his efforts. “This is what happens when one crosses me,” Vainia stated. “I react with double the fury. The very earth will recoil.” “That’s admirable, but… It’s a little risky, isn’t it? Not only do you risk capture and death, your message would no doubt draw the enmity of the entire World Government.” Martessa wiped at her fledgling tears. “We’re not ready to invade Inusia, let alone the face the attacks of every other nation in the world. Angering the World Government is the least productive course of action you could be taking, Lady Vainia!” Vainia tilted her head and looked back to Martessa. The fury contained in her jade eyes caused Martessa to flinch. “The world should be worrying about drawing my enmity.” ...End of Part Thirty-One. <- Previous Page | Main Page | Next Page ->